


A Junker's Woes

by idothatoutside



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sex, Mild Gore, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Some angst, Temporary Amnesia, Trans Character, but lots of happy moments to, gays, i blame mad max for this, lots and lots of gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idothatoutside/pseuds/idothatoutside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a junker, that much she knew. The rest was a blurry haze. Small semblances of her past life that sometimes bobbed back to the surface were the only clues she got. However two junkers who forced their way into her life may be able to help her out. If only she could convince the two to take a five second break from total mayhem so she could take a goddamn pee break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Junker's Woes

Junkrat drummed his fingers against the cashier desk, bored and impatient from all the waiting. It wasn't the most impressive convenience store. Cigarettes were lined up against the wall, various of brands names printed on small to obscenely large cartons. He'd stick to noxious fumes from explosions not some plant wrapped in white and yellow paper. There was a large sign in a glaring yellow that gave a warning about the effects of tobacco. Junkrat could bet that 9/10 times the people buying the cigarettes didn't even give a shit and were mentally flipping the sign off. Besides him was a colorful array of scratch tickets stacked up against a plastic shelf. Big Money, Billions Galore, their obnoxious golden sheen only served to aggravate him more. Promises of riches on some flimsy card, why would people even buy those things, it was such a boring game of chance. What happened if someone scratched a card and got nothing? They were left with a shitty paper card that they spent 20$. Embracing his inner feline he swatted the plastic off the table, watching some cards spill from the stand and other gracefully twirl far away from their plastic enclosure. God he was bored. If there was one thing he hated it was waiting, he could be blowing stuff up but no. He was at some dumb convenience store so Hana could take a piss.

"Come on I hate waiting, when the fuck are you going to pry your ass from that toilet seat," Junkrat groaned.

From behind a door with a sign that said 'employees only' came an irritated voice. "Soljikhi...you're so impatient. Stop bitching and moaning, I'll be out in a sec."

On cue there was a rather loud flush followed by the sound of a tap splashing against a porcelain sink. A squeak of metal halted the flow of water and finally she emerged. She was scrubbing wet toilet paper against her dirt covered skin. When the toilet paper wouldn't fall to pieces and did it's job the dirt uncovered fair palette brushed with beige and highlighted by a tawny blush.

"Couldn't even give me five seconds to scrape the dirt off my face, had to rush me," she grumbled. "Peeing takes time asshole!"

Junkrat rolled his eyes and looked toward the horrified employee. He was shivering like mad and there was a suspicious stain near his crotch. To bad the bathroom was occupied. Roadhog still had his gun trained toward the man's direction, which the employee kept looking at from the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he'd hurriedly lick his lips as if trying to work up the nerve to say something but his voice would catch in his throat, effectively choking him up. Junkrat always found that intimidation was the best way to get a person to shut up. That or killing them, whichever came first.

"Alright let's get out of here, I want to go to the arcade," Hana said.

"Again?" Came a gruff voice from behind Roadhog's mask.

"Don't give me that, I know you liked it. Besides I wanna beat everyone's high score," Hana replied. This time she was going to put 'suck my dick' as her scoreboard name. If they found really old ones that would only let someone punch in three characters than 'ass' would work just as well.

Roadhog looked at Junkrat, who was thinking about the potential arcade trip. "Eh why not, but I get to blow it up."

That would punch a hole in her plan, he always got pissy when he didn't get to blow stuff up so she was at a bit of an impasse. Roadhog seemed to ponder their choices before finally relenting. "Fine but you two better stay out of trouble for once."

"I'll be on me best behavior." "Assa!" Came both of their responses.

Hana hopped over the counter and grabbed a stick of gum from one of the many stacks that lined up the shelf. She unwrapped the rubbery slab from it's foil prison, popped in her mouth, and then elbowed the man in the head, knocking him out cold. Yeah today was gonna be a good day. Roadhog's discontent burned into her back so she whipped around and folded her arms. "What? Got something to say?" Hana would always test their brutal natures, she'd seen Roadhog rip a man's jaw off and Junkrat leave a pile of disjointed limbs in his wake. Hana wasn't one for mindless gore.

"I should be asking that," Roadhog said.

"We need to have some tact, we're in the big city for crying out loud," Hana pointed out.

"Since when have we ever had tact?" Junkrat said, raising a charred brow.

"I well-" Before she had time to defend herself ear splitting sirens started to wail all around them. A huge commotion erupted featuring loud orders and someone fumbling with a megaphone. The group had been through this so many times before that they started betting money on what exactly the person on the megaphone would say. Roadhog usually ended up with all of the betting pool winnings. Needless to say Hana was a very sore loser so that went as well as expected.

"Great just what I needed," came two observations at the same time. One was disgruntled and on the verge of whining, the other one was ecstatic.

Almost slipping on a scratch ticket that was for some reason on the floor Hana wondered how she got in this mess in the first place. Memory lane sure had a funny way of taking a U turn whenever it was coincidentally relevant.

* * *

 

It was cloudless, not a single white puff rolled by the achingly blue sky. Birds didn't chirp a domestic tune that would be drowned out by the cicadas constant chatter. It was one of the days where the earth ceased its endless whining, the parched clay cracking into filo dough. Beads of sweat that matted the crossroads where the back of the neck and hair met became a clingy sheet that started to venture toward the wide expanse of the back. It was that very sympton of the crushing heat that was weighing down a poor girl of only 19. Encased in an odd contraption that had a vague and strange rabbit like shape Hana Song rubbed at her sore mouth, irritating them further. Behind cracked lips a cotton swathed tongue felt heavy and too big for the tight skin surrounding it. The want to stop was overwhelming despite her fervent urges to keep going. The mecha was doing all the work, she reasoned. So why do I have to take a break? It was all too much though, the instincts that led her to survive out in the wastelands grabbed her and pulled Hana out of the mecha. Like always she couldn't help but make the ejection showy. She flipped into the air, the wind brushing past her ears, and then landed on the top. She could feel the heat seeping through her thick kevlar like pants however they were tough enough to ward off the burning sting of the metal. With a gloved hand she hit her fist against a oval like panel, revealing a box like compartment filled with water. It was technically part of her mecha's cooling system but taking a little wouldn't hurt. Besides, they were getting close to the market, she had some scraps that would score a golden amount of the precious liquid. Hana didn't think it was going to be a big haul so she skimped out on a full canteen of water, opting for half instead. Rookie mistake really, as evidenced by the bulky burlap sack that was tied to the machine with heavy course ropes. It was big enough that it was blocking the crooked license plate with the phrasing wr3kd pressed on.

Cupping her hands Hana carefully dipped them into the water and ever so slowly brought it up to her mouth. The water felt foreign against her dry tongue and it took every bit of her willpower not to guzzle it, which risked precious drops falling down into the sand below. Drinking it made Hana feel better but also more tired. She wanted more but she knew no matter how much she drank, it was never enough. She'd only be sated for a couple hours until she realized that she wasted all of her water on one big binge and now she had no mode of transportation, for her mecha would overheat. So she'd be left out in the desert and eventually wither away, until she was a pile of dusty bones buried neath a layer of sand. She didn't like that, not one bit. She was more than just another person at the mercy of a desert wasteland. She was fucking motherfucking Hana Song and she owned this shitty desert.

Smirking as a result of her heavy handed praise Hana felt her hands itch to do something, maybe fire her fusion canons at some deadbeats who tried to mess with her. No she couldn't do that, so instead she began absently brushing her gloved hands against the scorching metal, rubbing her fingers against the indentations that were a darker version of the washed out orange that made up most of her mecha. For an abandoned mecha that was only half functional and required scavenged parts to fix up, her machine looked a hell of a lot better than some of the scrappy vehicles other junkers rode. Hana's mecha was not only her mode of transportation, it was also her weapon, shield, and confidence. When she found it, a whole new mode transcribed itself in her psyche. Other junkers wouldn't come close to what she had at her disposal. She was number one and they were just npcs, disposal and easy to figure out. Hana smiled, content with her reasoning. She then hopped down and slid back into her mecha. It was time to keep going.

The walk toward the nearest town was uneventful, her mecha chugged along at a steady pace and Hana kept her hands tight on the controls. The slight rhythmic bumps were always comforting to her, they were barely noticeable other than a slight thump against her body and the sound of whirling mechanics. Eventually the seemingly endless sand dunes evened out revealing a mass of structures.

The 'town' was more like a farmers market that people happened to live at. This one was a rather big one, a huge hub where people would trade and sell their findings to shady dealers. What they used the scrap for was of no concern to her. She was in it for the food, water, and occasional miscellaneous items. While it was not unusual to see a junker sporting an odd contraption people still gawked at her mecha, a few of them whispering behind the their hands and others staring, wondering if they could nab the machine out of the small girl's grasp. Like hell they would. Hana a had a little secret up her sleeve or lack thereof. It was enough that even the threat of it would have people back off.

Some of the stalls were rather grandiose, made of a sturdy wood and covered by an ornamental canopy with intricate patterns that locked together in a seamless array of geometric shapes. They were the kind of stall that were looking for specific parts and posted out jobs with their criteria for what they wanted. Others were made of airy plywood and had their spoils locked away in grungy looking coolers. The seller behind those types of stalls were usually picking the sand out their thick and yellowing finger nails with a rusty knife or angrily spitting at an equally furious person. They were fun to look at but not what she was looking for.

Passing through the numerous stalls and canopies of cloth that offered a semblance of shade Hana stopped at very rugged looking stand. Compared to the others it was a joke, the only thing it had going for it was ratty blue tarps and a disinterested seller who was seemingly taking a nap. He would have been an easy person to jump if not for how inconspicuous and small the stall was. Unless people were actively looking for it they wouldn't even notice it. Hana opened the protective metal caging that kept her in the mecha and hopped out. She then slipped the aviator goggles from her eyes so they were hanging around the neck. Her face was getting a bit sweaty under the plastic casing.

"I got a big haul for you," she said. No response. So she tried again. Still no response.

God it was all day with this guy. She was thirsty and just wanted some goddamn water. Her patience was wearing thin, the guy was just laying there with a shitty straw hat covering his eyes. What a bum.

"Jjajeungna. I guess I'll take my business elsewhere," she huffed, turning back toward her mecha.

The sleeping man finally started to stir, albeit very slowly. He propped himself up on his hands, abandoning his hat, and took to stretching his legs and arms one by one. A jaw cracking yawn from the sleepy individual only served to fuel her frustrations.

"I'm up I'm up," The man yawned.

Hana rolled her eyes and went toward the back of her mecha to start unstrapping the bulging burlap cloth from the ropes. It was always a bitch to pry the knots from their tight designs. However it was either that or cut the ropes. The heavy duty ropes were expensive, so that was not an option. Although course they could were resilient. Made of that new fiber stuff that even the military used. Cost her an arm and a leg but it was worth it. After a lot of tugging and shoving her hands in the small spaces between the knots so she could pry them out, she finally got the large sack to unceremoniously plop to the ground. She winced at the metallic clanked and hoped that wouldn't decrease the market value.

She unfolded the sack until it was a poor excuse for a blanket that cradled a mess of parts. Some were coils of odd piping and others were blocks of a foreign type of metal with crevices and indentations that weren't very obvious on what they were for. "You better come over here cause I'm not dragging this to where you are."

The man unwittingly got up from his relaxed position so he could walk over to the scavenged parts and appraise the collection. He whistled at the sight, impressed by the contents so was able to get. One in particular caught his eye and so he bent down and grabbed it. It was a strange capsule that had a slab of metal at both ends and undecipherable markings and tubing in the middle. It looked important when she was scavenging and now she was glad she got it.

He fumbled with it for a bit, scrunching up his face so he could strip it down with a critical eye. Then his face relaxed and he went back to his tired old self. "This right here is some fine material you got. It contains a rare form of plasma only found in space. I'll give you a month of rations for it and a favor for the rest. Oh and make sure that if you find more of this stuff bring it to me. Deal?"

The prospect of a month's worth of rations was enough to run a blast of radiant euphoria through her spine but she had to remind herself to stay level headed and not let her emotions show. She could weasel out a few more spoils out of him if she showed disinterest. "Eh make that two favors and you got yourself a deal."

"And no backhanded ones either," she quickly added.

The man turned over the device while humming at the same octave. "Alright little lady you got yourself a deal."

Hana had to bite back the scathing comment on the 'little lady' bit. A month's worth of rations and two favors was in her grasps. She scored big time. A self satisfied grin stretched and she casually leaned against her mecha. Of course she got a highscore. She was mother fucking Hana Song.

The man went behind a tattered tarp and then reappeared with a worn cardboard box. "Alright everything's in here. Oh and that favor you asked for a while back finally arrived. Have fun with that game."

Once Hana had her arms full of cardboard she quickly stashed it in her mecha and hopped in, eager to rip into the items, especially the game system. If there was one memory she actually remembered it was her love of video games. Though she had no idea how that affinity arose she would always have a soft spot for them, sometimes even forgoing potential supplies so she could get her hands on them. The trek back was uneventful, her mind kept wandering back to the game, hands itching to handle the plastic lump. Her giddiness drove her to urge her mecha to go faster by engaging the boosters. The high powered squeal from the boosters ripped through the air as she rocketed forward.

"Yeah!" The small junker yelled...then coughed as she started choking on sand.

The goggles kept most of the sand out of her eyes but sometimes so forgot that goggles did not extend to mouth protection. The sudden granular oxygen had her heaving and hacking which momentarily made her lose control of the joysticks. When she regained her bearings she noticed that she was way off track but more importantly that her mecha landed smack dab in the middle of a face off. A gang of junkers were looking at her mecha with confusion and awe. Across from them were two other junkers, one with a sick as fuck pig tattoo and the other who had literal flaming hair. Icy dread fill her until she had to swallow it back so she didn't end up vomiting.

"I'm not interrupting something am I?" Hana asked. She was mildly impressed that she could sound so collected because she was inwardly panicking.

The junker with the flaming hair spread a maniacal grin. "Nope! In fact you're just in time."

**Author's Note:**

> "After a lot of tugging and shoving her hands in the small spaces between the knots so she could pry them out, she finally got the large sack to unceremoniously plop to the ground." just noticed that sounds like a bad furry porn fic. whatever


End file.
